WRITER

Pat's House of Offal

After having several of my most magnificent fast food concepts entirely ignored by supposed “industry players,” I’ve come to the conclusion that advancements in the industry are being stymied by the old fast food guard, whose efforts are soley geared toward protecting their meat, fish, and poultry fiefdoms. These “experts,” as they like to call themselves, laugh off my carefully devised plans, then, to spite me, inhale a couple of Big Macs before waddling off to Packers games.

Example: I couldn’t raise more than a few dollars (in small change) for “Pat’s Horseradish Cottage” (every cent of which came from my own children)! I’m thinking to myself: really? It’s Horseradish people! Name one food it won’t improve (besides, say, ice cream, which my kids have already pointed out would be gross).

Burned, again, by my own capacity to dream big, I should be humbled, but instead I find myself more determined than ever to open Pat’s Cockscomb Bungalow. Because if I don’t open it, I’ll be missing out on an awesome opportunity!

Cockscombs are going to be the essential ingredient in tomorrow’s “Po’ Boy’s,” if I’m reading the tea leaves right. If you’ve never had a cockscomb Po’ Boy, with onions and a hefty squirt of Sriracha, then you don't know what you're missing. And yes, I am a believer in the viability of roadside cockscomb joints (despite the snickering of my own family whenever I mention it), where you pop by for one of these futuristic Po’ Boy’s while heading home after work, (via an efficient drive-through checkout process or, perhaps, carhop!).

Note: I’m thinking it may be wise to downgrade from “Bungalow” to “Hut,” as “Pat’s Cockscomb Hut” is a more realistic vision, given my children’s current modest life savings.

Will begin to build my empire upon a nice pair of cockscomb shears, which I'll ask the kids to get me for Christmas.